


For Lack of a Better Title

by Mayamelissa



Series: Hero, Champion, Herald [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, OP Main Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-02-16 03:31:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayamelissa/pseuds/Mayamelissa
Summary: The attempted rewrite of What the Hell is Going On?. I suck at titles and summaries. My OC gets trapped in Thedas with a phone containing a fuck ton of information on Dragon Age in her possession. She's from a future alternative earth so expect gadgets, items, and abilities not available to normal CiTs.





	1. Chapter 1

Caffeine Opium Johnson (yes that was her name) would admit that her whole life is one big, confusing, and infuriating mess of weird.

Her bestest friend, ALEX? Reincarnation of a goddess from another plane of existence with the ability to jump from one dimension to another, among other talents.

Caffeine’s twin sister (or rather now deceased twin sister) Nicotine was one of the most powerful mutants on record with one of the largest video game collections ever known.

Caffeine is quite close friends with the wife of Satan as well.

Actual friend of Satan, as in THE Satan, who it turns out also is the cousin of Caffeine’s bestest friend.

She, Eliza (aka Satan’s wife) and Nicotine had been sucked into an ancient Chinese tome where they had taken on the mantle of priestesses to save the world, hence why her sister is now deceased.

And as she struggles with the urge to vomit and pass out, she wonders what the hell just happened to her now.

She has developed a hatred of interdimensional travel. A hatred rivalling that of a thousand suns. This ability has always taken her some place weird or unpleasant. Aside from the excellent fights, they don’t offer much in the way of stability.

She gives a hollow laugh as she rakes a hand through her sandy blond hair. Normal? Yeah. She comes from a practical utopia. People don’t starve to death and education is free and corruption is rarely found. Medical technology is impressive by Star Trek standards. Demons, mutants (once only thought of as comic book fantasy), aliens, and humans live in a cohesive society that though she knew wasn’t perfect, was damn near close. No one sleeps on the streets unless they want to and people take care of each other. They aren’t stupid; they know how to get shit taken care of. It’s not like that everywhere in the world she belongs to. She knows this because she’s done more than her share of sneaking across the border, making deliveries into the dangerous dystopian autocracy known as Bisonopolis.

Caffeine groans, leaning against a tree as she reaches into the back pocket of her jeans. She removes her phone, looking at the screen to see if it’s damaged. A sigh of relief escapes her as the screen springs to life at her touch. “That’s one thing,” she mutters then speaks a little louder, “Diagnostic check.”

The blond uses her spare hand to rummage through her bag, grabbing her flask as the device runs a check on itself. It begins to list what programs are available as Caffeine takes a swig of whiskey to help steady her nerves. Whatever ripped her mid jump has done a number on her. Worse than anything she’s dealt with before. And she has literally battled demons from hell.

A whispered ‘fuck’ escapes her lip as one of the offline functions listed is the acclimated intelligence program. Which means she can’t contact anyone to get help.

She takes another swig, closing her eyes and feeling for any wounds or damage that might have happened to her. No physical damage, but her Runes are humming and whispering at odd tones. They are unhappy and anxious and it takes a good effort on her half to not scream at them to be quiet. Another drink from the flask to calm her nerves. “I’m stuck somewhere I don’t recognize, separated from anyone I know, cut off from help, and possibly here for good,” she spoke out loud. She takes a sip. “On the plus side: I’m not injured. My phone works to an extent and there’s no fog so I’m definitely not back in Silent Hill.” She lifts up her flask. “Cheers.” Another sip and she screws the lid back on. There’s not much liquid left inside and she needs to save it. Who knows what inhabits this world or if there’s anyone on it. Hell, she could have landed on Endor for all she knows. And wouldn’t that be something?

Her body is still sore but she needs to find civilization or some kind of shelter. Staying out here does her no favors, and there’s no guarantee the wildlife will be willing to have a conversation. Just gotta find something that she can take a picture of. One that might be recognized in a cross-reference via her phone. If she can find anything like that, she’ll be one step closer to figuring out how to get the fuck back home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: the graphic depictions of violence at the beginning of this chapter can be triggering to some people. Not many such incidents will occur later on (I don't think they will happen at all since Caffeine is rather proactive to stopping such events). This scene was inspired by a fanfic I read a while ago that I can no longer locate so if someone else can find it let me know so I can give them inspiration credit. This part is meant to portray some of the very worst behavior in Thedas and a dark moment to be remembered and referenced. I wrote this chapter with great care and it is not lightly placed. It is dark. I know it is dark. Please don't spam the comment section and scream at me because I have warned you.

What was it someone said: the first time was just an event, the second was a coincidence? Or was it first time for coincidences, the second starts a pattern?

Whichever it is, it makes something in her cringe at this being the second time she has stumbled upon the rape of an underage girl. Except this time, Caffeine has wandered into the event mid-act on an elven girl and by several men clad in armor. Soldiers? Knights? The armor was medieval in look. Steel perhaps? The look and density felt about right as she tore her knife through the throat of the man standing to the side watching. Her foot kicks him forward as she steals his sword from its sheath at the same time. The dead man’s body collides into the one with his dick shoved choking depth in the poor girl on the ground, knocking him over. The one buried into the girl’s lower region didn’t have enough time to react as Caffeine slices his head clean off. His body nearly falls forward and onto his victim, but she kicks it out of the way before it can land.

“You crazy bitch!” the last living assailant shouts as he shoves the body of his fallen brother off him. “You’ll pay for this! Do you understand-”

Caffeine silences him forever with the stolen sword launched like a javelin into the man’s head. 

“Understand that, fucking piece of shit!” she spits. Her blue eyes darken with rage and she walks over to the corpse of the one she has decapitated and knocks him further away from his victim. His body flies several feet away before colliding in a sickening crunch with a tree. “Raping children?!” 

She rips the sword from out of the dead man’s head, tossing it to the side. With a disgusted sigh and shake of her head, she turns around to look at the shaking elven child. The girl is curled into the fetal position, eyes large and unseeing with shock. Brown hair tangled with leaves and sticks, her dress is ripped; her face already starting to bruise. Caffeine holds in a curse and slowly approaches the injured child, removing her leather jacket. She gets down on her knees, her lips pressed together in a grim line.

“It’s over,” she says in her most soothing tone. It always feels so weird to her when she tries to comfort someone. Awkward. She isn’t good with words in these situations. Never has been. “They’re dead now,” she assures the girl, laying her jacket over the curled up form.

Caffeine closes her eyes, casting a scan spell upon the traumatized form in front of her. Her stomach lurches at what she discovers. Broken ribs. A punctured lung. Both wrists were fractured. Heavy vaginal and anal trauma. Jaw dislocated from where one of them had shoved his dick in her mouth - no doubt to stop her screaming. They’d cast something on her too; something that had weakened her body with a staggering degree of efficiency. Even if Caffeine heals every bit of damage to the girl’s body, there was no guarantee she could recover fully.

But a chance was always a chance, as she’d told people and Caffeine is no quitter. Eyes closed, she focuses on her runes. “Reverse the damaged flesh and bone,” she uttered. The runes lit up on her flesh and an aura of soft white light encompassed the small form before her. She held in a curse as she felt forces within the girl’s body fight against her treating them. A familiar hand was on the girl’s soul and Caffeine grits her teeth. “She’s only ten,” she declares to the air around her, eyes narrowing.

_ She is damaged and dying. I hear her begging for me… _

The Soul Eater or maybe it is Death itself whispering into her ear, the taint in her blood making its voice still and clear as ever. Even in this new world it still speaks with horrible clarity. She really hates her fate. That and the freaking evil bitch who was the whole reason she has this ability. “That is the trauma talking and you know it,” she tells the invisible entity. “Give her a chance! I just gave you 3 souls to feast upon or drag into the abyss or whatever you do!”

_ She is injured by magic and force. These two combined make her suffering beyond bearing. _

“And you aren’t making it easier by wrapping your hands on her soul,” Caffeine snaps. She feels cold fingers grasp her nape, but she ignores it. She will not let this girl die without a fight, dammit!

_ Let me have her, Priestess of War, _ it whispers.  _ Even should she live, the damage to her mind will be too great. Not just that by the events of this night, but by those who set this up. She was betrayed by those who genuinely wished for me to take her on this night. Leave her to the kindness I can give. _

As if this whole situation doesn’t piss her off enough. “Who did it?” Her magicks do not falter even as the eerie laughter echoes around her. “Someone she trusted let these bastards loose on her?! I want to know!”

_ You do not know this place. You do not know her. You are once again a stranger, pushed into a foreign world. You would do no good getting vengeance for her.  _

“If someone she trusted let loose these bastards on her, they need to pay.”

_ I only exist to end the suffering. Even here. _

The heavy cold hand of Death is on her shoulder and she scowls. A burning hatred in her stomach gnashes with the nausea of earlier. It isn’t right. She doesn’t know this girl. Doesn’t know her name or why people she trusts want her dead. But Caffeine still cares. Even as what seems to be the girl’s very own will pushes away her efforts to heal her broken body, Caffeine still tries to fight for her.

But Caffeine knows Death. It will not give up the names. But it is not her enemy no matter how much it pisses her off.

_ Prolong her pain no longer, Priestess, _ Death whispers.  _ You do no one good to continue this way. _

One by one the lighted sigils on her skin fade, until Caffeine lets out a sigh. “I hate you,” she mutters in disgust. She lays her hand on top of the arm of her jacket as the girl’s ragged breathing cuts through the quiet of the forest. “Take her now, since you’re so fucking eager!”

And it does. 

The panting wheezes slow to stillness in seconds and soon the presence of Death is gone. Caffeine checks for a pulse and scans for any life. Nothing left but the faint residual pulses as the electrical signals of the body begin to dissipate. The girl is gone now. Innocent life destroyed by rotten pieces of filth.

She will dig a grave for her, Caffeine decides. When the sun starts to rise and the light shows, Caffeine will get her shovel out and give her a proper burial. “I’ll have to give you the rites of the elven from my world, little one.” Her tone is apologetic. “I’m sorry. I wish I could do more. Could have done more. I don’t know how or what but… I’m sorry.”

A sigh escapes her lips and she stands up. Her eyes glance up at the sky, twin moons casting a decent level of light on her surroundings. She walks over to the corpses of the armed men and strips them. She won’t bury these bodies. They don’t deserve something like burials, rites or even being burned in a pyre. No. She would leave them to any starving animals in the forest and let the bugs feast on their corpses.

“You’re lucky I’m not in the business of making soap,” she swears. She works diligently until they are nude; enhanced vision coupled with the lunar light making her task easier than if she was a normal person. Hours pass and when the sun rises, there is pile of hacked human bodies and she is covered in blood. Glad to know she’d located a brook not too far from her current location.

Soon the grave has been dug at the base of one of the large trees close to them. Not too deep but not too shallow. Caffeine retrieves a few items from her bag: a comb, her travel repair kit, and a small cloth wrapped bundle of incense sticks. Silent and somber, she opens the kit and removes a pair of tiny clear rubber bands.

She picks out the debris from the girl’s hair and then combs it. Sectioning a small portion off, Caffeine slips the first of the two bands near the top securing it. Braids it; fastening it tightly with the second band. Finally she snips the braid and places it in her bag. “You will never be forgotten, though I may never know your name,” she whispers. Caffeine removes her jacket off the dead child and carries her to the grave. “May you be reborn to a better life, with little heartache and lesser strife. May silence be sweet and the music be merry. May you laugh and live long when graced with the next chance.  May you never know hunger or sickness and may you find happiness. May whatever gods rule this place take you to peace.”

She covered the body as she recited the prayer. Grabbing a pair of the gauntlets from the stack of loot, she presses her hands over it. Her alchemy bends and reshapes the metal into an incense holder. Soon a stick of incense is burning at the foot of the grave.

With that task finished, Caffeine puts her things away. She needed a bath. Badly. Before she starts using her phone to see if there were any pictures that matched the design of the armor on her victims would be most preferable.


	3. Chapter 3

Another world in which she was grateful she’d long abandoned wearing white, Caffeine muses as she peels blood soaked clothes off her body. Not that she minded the color, hell sometimes she missed being able to pair it amongst the dark fabrics of her attire. But with how much mud, blood, grass and other variable stains she would acquire? Not a feasible color with her lifestyle.

Nude, she grabs her washcloth and soap from her bag’s front pocket and enters the brook. The water was cold but refreshing, like the water back home in the nature zones she would run away to. Maybe she could find a tree that reminded her of the one she’d first met ALEX at.

Wait. No. That would be a bad idea. The last thing she needs is a nice stroll through memory lane for a while. That was not another ache she needs right now, she decides as she scrubs her body clean. After a few minutes of intense washing, sun kissed golden skin is revealed and she sighs in relief that she no longer has the remnants of those pieces of vermin on her. Deciding better to be safe than sorry, Caffeine unbinds her long dark blond hair from its braid. Her fingers deftly loose the three miniature plaits on the sides, completely letting her locks free from their confines.  _ I don’t look forward to the hour it’ll take to redo all that but it’s better than risking a trace of blood in my hair, _ she thinks grimly.

Finally she is clean. Next comes her clothes.

“Really need to take this thing off when I know I’m about to get covered in stuff,” she chides. “‘This material has an estimated wearable protection life of 20 years in the most highly dangerous situations!’” Her tone is mocking before returning to normal. “With my luck, I’ll finally get back home and the engineers over at DeValentine Industries will have aneurysms at how I managed to ruin this thing. And I doubt interdimensional travel for X number of years is going to be a believable excuse.” She’ll still try it, just for a laugh.

When she is done with her jacket, she looks up. No low hanging branches or boulders are close by and the bank is too muddy. Well shit. Her Earth Rune whispers to her and she frowns. “Looks like I have to,” she agrees. The rune illuminates on her skin as from the ground stone rises forth to make the shape of a large golem.

“God damn that is impressive,” she comments, eyeing the creature. It still makes her feel a sense of awe how her abilities have grown enough to do this kind of stuff. Back home, her ability to perform transmogrification ala Full Metal Alchemist style had been impressive but thanks to her runes she can do so many more things. Summoning golems that look and act like Atronachs from The Elder Scrolls series? Another much appreciated addition to her arsenal. One that seriously comes in handy sometimes.

“Hey there, Handsome,” she greets the golem. It’s head cocks to the side and it makes a moaning sound. “Yeah, I know. You can’t speak. Will you hold my clothes until I’ve finished washing them?” It makes another sound and Caffeine smiles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She puts her jacket over one of its’ arms and then goes to work scrubbing and cleaning the rest of her bloodied ensemble. She sighs when she is done, ready to get out of the water. “God damn that took too long,” she grumbles. The golem gives no response, patiently remaining a hulking clothes hanger.

She ambles out of the water, crafting a barrier of chakra between her feet and the ground so she won’t get her feet dirty right after that bath. A gentle breeze from her wind rune and she is dry. Her hair is left to dry naturally. Going back to her bag, she removes out a rolled together pair of clean undergarments. She slips them on, adjusting her girls inside the molded cups of her sports bra a little. “Oh please tell me my tits haven’t grown bigger. Again,” she pleads. “I do not want to have to worry about juggling with my goddamned tits in battle until I find a way back home and get another reduction. Christ, guys!” She checks her over clothes and was relieved to find they’d dried quickly.

Finally cleaned and clothed, she pulls her hair into a low ponytail for now, stuffing her laundered underclothes into the bag. Bag of holding doesn’t need to be re-packed later. The young woman then gets her phone out of its pouch before hefting her bag over her shoulder. Blue eyes then look at her golem. “You wanna walk with me until you hit zero?” she asks. It makes that humming sound it had before and she shrugged.

The pair head back to the grave site. Caffeine notes there was no change in the sounds around them so no one had approached the area while she’d been off to bathe. She didn’t know if that should make her relieved or worried. The grave remains undisturbed, the incense sticks burning mid level now. She crouches over the pile of armor she’d left next to a tree. 

“Now let’s see if these suckers can tell me where I am.”

 

*~ 5 minutes later ~*

 

“You have got to be fucking shitting me,” she says. Her tone has turned low and angry as her eyes stares at the device in her hand.

Dragon Age. She was in goddamn Dragon Age?!

“Re-run the search,” she orders. There is no way she is going to be stuck somewhere she was completely clueless on! The phone complies and once again the words Dragon Age pop up. She shakes her head. Great. A game she’d had no interest in back before interdimensional travel had become a reality for her. She couldn’t end up in Fallout? Maybe Skyrim? She’d never really played video games but for Christ sakes at least she had a grasp on what the fuck went on with those two! “I don’t know jack shit about this world! Fucking hell!” She inhales deep and wills herself to calm down. Or take another sip from her flask.

The blond shook her head, rejecting the idea and looked down at her phone.

Well  _ she _ may not have been much into gaming but luckily her twin had been an avid gamer and had in fact played the series among so many others. And she’d used her phone to store walkthrough guides and everything one would need should they find themselves in such places. Normal people would wonder about that, but Caffeine had known Nicotine well enough. Girl’s brain is - _ had been _ like a time lord’s with shamefully overpowered precognitive abilities. So all Caffeine has to do was bring up any information files she’d copied off Nicotine’s phone and acquaint herself with the story.

And holy shit balls that is a lot of data to go through!

“Did you download the entire wiki?” Caffeine asks aloud as she stares at the archive folder holding all the information it contains on the series in question. It appears to be massive and in depth; with not just documents but videos and images aplenty. There will be no shortage of things to study.

Caffeine puts the phone in standby mode and concentrates on the mess she’s made. She has to get moving eventually, find some semblance of civilization. Maybe, if her luck turns around, she can locate some kind of hint that there had been Dimension Watcher presence on this world once. A beacon of some sort or piece of technology that was cloaked to normal eyes. If not? She is going to have find some spot with a fuck load of concentrated magical energies or natural anomalies that she could make one herself.

“Next time someone from a giant intergalactic, interdimensional organization that has proven to be trusted offers to give you homing beacons so you can be located when you’re lost, you say yes!” she scolds herself. “Because the only step up from being in a game world you have no clue about is being stuck in one of those old Earth zombie apocalypse setting. No. Wait. That would be preferable to being stuck here because those usually have working plumbing and viable structures to hole up in! Minecraft? No. That might be fun! Simplistic and cubed but fun. What’s a game that dealt with freaky space-type shit?” She looks at the golem who just stares back at her. “You don’t know either, huh?”

It just hums.


	4. Chapter 4

Caffeine loves her bag.

It’s been with her for many years: through the dangerous treks between the borders of Bisonopolis and Rikaku, those times she became stuck in fog covered nightmare realm, a trip to Hell itself to help Satan put some idiots down, and when she was sucked into an ancient tome where she’d become the Priestess/Avatar to one of four Chinese gods.

Ironically it was a dragon too.

It’s features included:

A medium sized hydration bag for her water resting on one side.

A place within her bag’s main compartment containing plates, bowls, and cutlery for when she would have actual meals. 

A well stocked med-kit. 

An emergency repair kit. 

A detachable hard cased container on the bottom that not only held a very roomy tent but could also function as a bench or short table.

Then there were the food stuffs Caffeine always keeps on hand. Once upon a time, back before the cataclysm that shook the whole world so bad they’d gone into a new age to identify it. When humans were arrogant enough to think they were the norm ruling class. MREs had been a big survivalist meal of choice. Even now in the days of multi-course meal gums like those of a certain young adult fiction book, there were still a few producers of the things. They were popular among the people who lived along the borders. 

Caffeine kept a good supply of MREs and Multi-Course Meal gum in stock so she wasn’t without food and didn’t have to resort to hunting local wildlife. She’d also kept plenty of snacks inside so hunger wouldn’t be a problem for her.

One most recent addition to her pack was a portal that led to some kind of storage space holding a plethora of items. ALEX had decided one day she wanted to make sure Caffeine had access to anything she needed tucked away in a special pocket dimension. So ALEX, in all her wisdom, used her powers to make a small gateway that was bio-locked to her signature so that only Caffeine or herself could access the objects within. “Just think about what you want and BAM! Instant item,” ALEX had said. Then she’d dragged a roasted turkey leg out of Caffeine’s bag to chow down on. At which point Caffeine had hit her before taking her bag away. None of the objects in storage could be used to contact help unfortunately. 

But hey! If she wanted a roast beef sandwich on Hawaiian sweet bread all the way with mayo she was good to go! 

She really needs to have a talk with ALEX when she gets out of this mess. Not only do they need to put an emergency beacon in the room so that she can have them in case this happens again, but if she stuffs something like say a dismembered limb inside, then protocol would alert people someone was shoving hazardous bits around and it needed to be investigated.

If only they’d thought about that shit earlier than Caffeine wouldn’t be stranded for however long she’ll be.

She sits with her back against one of the trees, chewing on a piece of jerky as her blue eyes looks at all the armor in front of her. The body bits would eventually either rot or be eaten by a starving animal passing by. The undergarments they’d been wearing were of good quality material that once she washed it she could either find a vendor to sell it to or maybe find a place to donate them to. 

The armor though… that shit might be tricky. No doubt armor of this caliber was custom made, traceable. Selling the pieces as they were was far too risky an endeavor. Now if she used her powers to separate the steel into different parts... some good solid bits of carbon and iron? Well that was a different story.

Hell, she could turn it into figurines to sell. Won’t make much off them she is certain, but she won’t need to do much collecting of coins. These templars had possessed a good amount of currency on them. When she runs low, all Caffeine has to do is locate a good place and search for the right ore veins. Money issue solved.

Or hopefully it will be. Things hardly ever go that simple for her.

No matter what, she can’t stay sitting here in the middle of the forest. The sooner she gets her bearings, the sooner she can scry for any kind of hidden tech or sign that it had had some connection to one of the organizations which had experience involving interdimensional or at least space travel.

She spends the lunar hours cleaning and storing pieces of the templar armor into her pack. Other pieces Caffeine decides to transform before adding them with the other loot. She uses the remaining time looking through more of the contents on her phone, waiting for dawn.

Once the sun has risen, she lights another incense stick at the foot of the grave belonging to the child she could not save and begins walking what her compass tells her is north. Perhaps she will find a town located on one of the maps Nicotine left behind or gather information she can cross-reference with what she has. If not she will go to the next town, repeating the same actions.


	5. Chapter 5

The year is 9:19 Dragon.

Fuck all is happening, which means her search for signs will not be impeded by anything the timeline tells her. In fact she has about ten years before major events like this Fifth Blight occur. Oh there are many events that will transpire, it says. However this Blight is the most disturbing thing she can foresee.

The more she journeys, the longer she is stuck here, the more she studies and compares events, the itch to get involved grows.

She travels; searching and scrying for any evidence of any interdimensional organization having set foot on this planet. She finds none.

Her time is not spent primarily on searching. She makes income through Chanter’s Board quests, helping the Mages Collective, selling her figurines, taking out bandits and more than a few templars who go too far in their search for so-called maleficarum. Though they never identify her as being the culprits, she still does not like to stay too long in most towns. She learns this worlds recipes in herbalism and some of their poisons; she gets more in depth knowledge of the societal issues. It pisses her off.

On Wintersend in 9:24, the urge to avoid events as transcribed is too great to ignore. She pens a letter to King Maric. Within it, she warns him of his fate; speaking of the promise he made to Flemeth no one else should know as a method to convince him to at least postpone his journey to the Free Marches. She may have also written a few lines about Alistair in there to perhaps help him too.

King Maric either does not get the letter or he receives it and dismisses what it says. Either way, he disappears at sea and his son, Cailan, is eventually crowned King.  

Caffeine takes up residence in Denerim’s alienage for a few years, the longest she ever decides to stay in one place. Among other activities, she opens a free clinic that doubles as an apothecary; something desperately needed in this area. More often than not a majority amount of patients who come to her battered and bruised are from the Arl of Denerim’s estate. Though there are quite a few people of note who the servants tell as having hurt them, but the greatest of the injured point their fingers at the Arl’s son, Vaughn.

He is a repugnant young man. Vile and arrogant, Caffeine has the displeasure to witness some of his acts firsthand and it takes everything she has not to beat the shit out of him. Few mourn the loss of him, most merely wish it had not happened during the grand festivities of First Day in 9:25. “Drank himself to a stupor and passed out with a candle burning at his bedside,” the gossip goes. “Lucky for the estate a servant discovered the blaze before it spread out beyond the room!”

One of the children at the orphanage shows signs of having magic during a fever and the Templars try to take him while Caffeine is performing treatment.

It does not end well. For the Templars.

Though she bests them and she allows them to take the boy once he is well, she can no longer run her clinic. The Chantry declares it off limits and sends more than a fair share of Templars to harass her. One evening while she is patrolling the streets on the lookout for trouble, a band of Templars break into her house. Since she isn’t there, they spend their time waiting by ransacking the place. Her bag had been safely stowed away from prying eyes so they never find it but many of the things she had collected or been given are destroyed.

She thinks about killing them but logic decides to intervene. The elves around here have enough problems; the dead bodies of Templars would only add to it. So she hits them with a high tier sleep spell, knocking them unconscious. She grabs her bag and loads any items and coin she wants to take with her that had escaped destruction into it.

As she is about to leave, her eyes looked down at the slumbering bodies of the intruders. An idea hit her and it was too good to pass up.

She strips them naked, arranges them in a rather intimate pose, stashes their loot inside her bag and leaves. They may have succeeded in driving her off but she leaving with a smile.

She slips out of the city, heading south towards the Brecilian forest. There’s something she needs to ask of the Dalish and if she is lucky, their keeper can teach her.

If not she will travel into the Korcari Wilds and find Flemeth.

She has less than 4 years until the timeline says the events of the game Dragon Age Origins come to pass. She wonders just how well she can arm herself to combat it.


	6. Chapter 6

She travels through the forest for a month, scrying over her map of this piece of Ferelden for the Sabre Clan.

They are not here and her disappointment is thick as tar.

However, just because she doesn’t find her initial quarry, it will not stop her from doing other things.

She finds her path to the ancient ruins containing the tainted eluvian and odd dozen of undead strewn about.

Her Night Rune comes in useful, ending the reanimated corpses existence quick. They fall and she incinerates the bodies after checking for anything useful on the dehydrated skeletal forms. She picks the area clean, taking a few pictures of the stonework to transfer later onto a more acceptable medium for any interested scholars. Or maybe even the Dalish themselves would be interested in her offerings? According to what she’s learned from Nicotine’s files, the nomads were desperate for any and all information on their ancestors. Even if that information might become misunderstood.

If they don’t accept what she gives them, at least somewhere down the line someone might be interested in her findings.

She kills the Blight Bear. It’s her first real look at a creature suffering from the Taint. It’s coat or what remains of it, is tattered. Rotting flesh hangs off spiked bone protrusions and it is oozing puss and black fluid she classifies as ichor. She ends the poor animal’s suffering with a simple blaster shot; one of the few times she has deemed necessary to fire her gun since coming to this world.

Finally she is staring face to face with the tainted eluvian.

It is impressive in person. The pictures barely do it justice, though she can easily blame graphic limitations for that. It is far larger than how it appeared in the Origin cutscenes she has watched; an imposing thing to behold. Merril would have only been able to fit half of the mirror into her home in Kirkwall if Caffeine was anywhere close to her estimations.

Kirkwall. Merril. Events that will be irrelevant to her; she’s ninety five percent sure of at any rate.

Always leave five percent chance open just in case.

She can’t leave this thing here, in tact. It is dangerous and will give the darkspawn another entry point topside. Plus there is Mahariel and Tamlen. Their futures. Their destinies.

It’s not her responsibility though, one voice reminds her. Nothing that happens to this world is. She can easily step away. Leave it be and just go travel. Keep looking for a way off this medieval rock. Besides: she’s cleared it out. Aside from maybe some more animals or giant spiders taking up refuge in the place, it’s been cleared.

Blue eyes look at the disintegrating corpse of the bear. This disease causes it to decompose rapidly once the host is dead. She casts a fire spell on the corpse and ground; the magic incinerating the body and scoring the ground before the taint can further touch the stone floor. Her attention returns to the mirror.

After taking more photos and checking the path behind the mirror, she heads out of the chamber.

A grenade is tossed towards the eluvian and she slams the door behind her as the it explodes. Then after locking the door, she leaves the ruins behind.

There is a someplace else she needs to be and time is ticking away.


	7. Chapter 7

Scrying to find Flemeth proves to be a lost cause. She does possess a general idea where the witch’s hut resides thanks to her phone. However the Wilds are not an easy place to venture through. Her Earth Rune aids her from pitfalls stumbling into areas that look like solid ground but are in fact ponds of stagnant water. It is only a few days of trudging through the swamp infested land that she decides to use her hoverboard to save her from the helpful but constant chatter in her head.

She is on constant alert. More than one town had warned her of the dangers the Wilds would give her when she stopped therein. Cannibals, venom spitting plants, giant insects aplenty. Sounds like one of the minor levels of hell she trekked through and it has proven to be true. There is danger and there is beauty in this place.

It provides her with a plethora of ingredients for potion making and she marks the spots and names in a journal she has taken to scribbling in.

The animals are confused and wary when she speaks to them, not knowing what to make of the human invader who can converse with them in their tongue.

Wild birds are universally snobs who like to look down (both figuratively and literally) on those who easily tread the ground. The larger species such as crows and hawks can be less… standoffish than their smaller counterparts but the better than thou air remains. 

The wolves watch her from a distance mostly. They are not hungry enough to attack her nor does she carry anything they can consume.

She is being watched. More than once, she has spotted a crow slightly larger than the other birds or a dark as night furred wolf skirting the corners of her camp space.

It is Morrigan most likely. She doesn’t believe Flemeth would investigate the intruder herself when her daughter could do it just as easily.

Caffeine halfway wonders what Morrigan makes of her. What does the shapeshifter adept assume of the lone traveller journeying through these Wilds of hers where the darkspawn will soon climb through the soil? Does she look and see a fool who does not sleep and expects them to soon collapse? Or does she see potential trouble: another wielder of magic that may be using the Wilds as a place to hide from Templars? 

“Just let me know when you get tired of watching, Morrigan,” Caffeine speaks one night to a pair of eyes that reflect moon’s light. “I’d prefer it if you could stop staring. It’s rude.”

The eyes disappear into the night and soon she feels very much on her own. She sighs and begins to chew some multi-course meal gum.

It is two more days of being alone when she senses Morrigan’s return. The witch slips gracefully from behind a tree into her line of sight. “I believe you have travelled far enough, Stranger,” she says and Caffeine’s mouth twitches in amusement.

“I guess that depends on if you’re here to lead me to where I desire to be or to stop me,” Caffeine counters. Morrigan tilts her head to the side, face severe.

“And pray tell what do you search for in this place? Are you an herbalist, seeking the rare bounties that grow within these lands? Are you a misplaced scout of some lord who has been far more lucky than most travelling?”

“Half of the first and none of the second,” Caffeine replies. A small smile rest on her lips as she could see irritation flash in Morrigan’s eyes for the slightest moments. “I need to speak to your mother.”

“My mother?” Morrigan carefully echoes back.

“Yes. I assume you have one. Did you think I believe you sprouted from a log?”

Morrigan’s eyes slightly narrowed. “What makes you so certain I have a mother to take you to or that I will lead you to her?”

“Because your mother is Flemeth and I have little doubt you were watching me just out of your own curiosity.”

The dark haired woman tensed visibly. “You seem to think you know much.”

“I’ve been around. And I know quite a bit. Nothing I can share with you though.”

“And what makes you believe she will help you?”

“I don’t. But I hope maybe she will.”

“So you travelled deep into the Wilds, alone, poorly protected with the sole purpose of finding Flemeth -  _ the _ Flemeth - to ask her a question? Without any surety that she would let you get close to her home or agree to your request?”

Her small smile has grown into a cheeky grin. “What can I say? I’m an optimist.”

“More like mad,” Morrigan scoffed. She stares at Caffeine for a few moments while Caffeine stares back at her.

Finally Morrigan breaks the silence. “Remain here and I will go speak to my mother,” she says. “I would advise you not to follow me or go further into the wilds until I return.”

Caffeine agrees and once again Morrigan leaves.

She stays there until it begins to grow dark and she pitches her tent. She hardens the sogging ground below the tent so that her camp doesn’t sink and continues to wait.

And wait.

And wait. 

A day becomes a week and before Caffeine starts debating how much she would like to let a remote control drone loose into the Korcari Wilds, Morrigan returns.

“Mother will speak to you,” the dark haired sorceress announces, looking like she’s sucked a lemon.

“And it took so long to get permission why?”

“Never you mind, Stranger,” Morrigan snaps, impatience filling her voice. “Gather your things and follow me.”

Caffeine breaks camp and once her things are packed she follows Morrigan to the hut. A journey that takes a mere 30 minutes. The blonde wonders just why it took Morrigan so long to get her now. They enter the home and blue eyes glance about the single room. It is very much the same in design as in the videos but the bed is larger. She zeroes in on the figure crouching over the fire.

Flemeth looks as she does in the second and third games, hair style reminiscent of dragon’s horns and light armor. Caffeine wonders what this difference in appearance means if anything.

“Well well,” a very distinct voice speaks and the owner turns to look at Caffeine. Golden eyes look over her, taking note of her appearance. “Aren’t you an interesting creature to look at?”

“I’m certainly something,” Caffeine replies. “Although interesting is up for debate. A pleasure to meet you, Flemeth.”

“Is it? I suppose that’s up for personal interpretation. Morrigan tells me you’ve journeyed all this way through the wilds to speak with me. An unusual request.”

“Well the Dalish tribe I wanted to find won’t be available for a while so I figured why not go for the most likely person who might know what I need.”

Flemeth laughed. “And you think I would help you?”

“I don’t know but I’d prefer to find out rather than sit on my thumbs and wait until the situation comes up. Neither of us are the type who like to just let events happen.”

“Indeed,” the old woman agrees. “Morrigan. Leave us. Our guest and I have much to discuss.”

Morrigan is displeased with the order and after a bit of back and forth, she tosses her hands up and leaves. The door slams as a final example to her indignation and Flemeth and Caffeine are left alone.

A few minutes pass until Flemeth is certain her daughter is gone. Then they begin to talk.


	8. Chapter 8

Caffeine stands at the banks of Lake Calenhad, looking out out the Mages Tower. Her expression is grim and blue eyes take in the sight of what will essentially be her prison for the next two years should everything go to plan. She has done some stupid shit before but nothing like waltzing into a place loaded with templars. Well not in years. Or on this planet.

She grimaces, rubbing her forehead with one of her hands as a heavy sigh escapes her lips. It’s not the idea of being quote unquote trapped in the circle that is causing her anxiety. Well okay, partially it is. It’s mostly the length of time she’s going to be in there. What if the fucking Wardens never show up and she misses Ostagar? Or fuckers try and take her to Aeonar? She’s not worried about her; she just doesn’t want to deal with that horse manure.

She made a promise to Flemeth that this was where she would be waiting for the Warden Commander in exchange for teaching her that spell. However that title went towards both Duncan as well as the lead character in the game.

It would be her luck she would have to wait until the fucking Circle revolt to join with events.

But she made a promise and she’s going to keep it.

In a corner of the hulking broken bridge leaning from the tower to the shore, she uses her powers to move stone and earth. She makes a hole four foot deep and big enough to store her bag within, lining it with stone from the bridge to keep it protected from the moisture of the rich soil. She places the bag within and then seals it over until she leaves the Circle. 

This is the safer route, she tells herself. There is no telling what the people inside will do with her belongings and so she buries it until she is released from the gilded cage prison.

With her bag secreted away, she then waits for morning and the ferryman.

 

Convincing them to take her in is an exercise in self control. Until she proves she has magic the hard way, they do not sense her ability to manipulate the primal forces. Then they are on edge; even more so when their methods of disabling mages fail. Irving is intrigued with her. Greagoir is antagonistic. They want to know why she would willingly walk into the Tower.

“Upon my travels, I met a witch who told me that a Blight will rise in Ferelden,” she states. “I was told to come here to this Tower and wait for a Grey Warden. This Grey Warden would come looking for recruits as well as mages to combat the blight during a battle in a place on the edge of the Wilds. Since I’m also studying how your mages operate the Fade and learn their skills, I found myself compelled to heed her advice.”

“A witch?” Greagoir asks, disbelief in his voice.

“She called herself Flemeth.”

The Knight Commander looks torn between wanting to dismiss her claims and demanding more answers. Irving asks her more questions, changing the subject onto what her studies entailed. She repeats what she has already said, adding how she also would like to officially learn how to brew and make potions. “I know a few but mastering it within the Circle where resources are more easily available and with the most knowledgeable teachers seems like the best route.” 

“A wise choice,” Irving agreed. “And the Circle prides itself on educating all who wish to learn. However there is no guarantee that the events foretold to you will happen. Nor can I guarantee you will be able to leave if this Grey Warden were to come here.”

“No offense, First Enchanter, but I doubt you could stop me.”

“You may be gifted with talents we have not been confronted with before, Young Woman,” Greagoir declares, “however every templar within these halls are skilled warriors. It would be nigh impossible to defeat them all.”

She does not contradict him nor does she mention her previous altercations with his kind. Instead she remains stoic and waits. They debate for a good while but ultimately let her stay. 

Greagoir wants her Harrowed immediately but Irving insists they wait. He reminds Greagoir that her magic is unique. If they put her through such an event without monitoring her abilities beforehand for a prolonged period of time, how would they properly guard against any problems that might arise?

“Perhaps look into it close to the time the vision speaks of,” the First Enchanter suggests. Greagoir thinks and then agrees. Some part of her that was tight with anxiety loosens.

“A phylactery must be made for you,” the Knight Commander states and she nods. She has a secret reason to agree to letting them drain her blood for that trinket. The Chantry thinks a phylactery is merely a tool to find and restrain mages. They could in fact divine where any person was, regardless of them being a mage or not. The trick was discovering the enchantments used on the vial holding the blood. 

All she needs to do is look at it; see what is used and go from there.

 

Acclimating to life in the Tower has its moments where she wants to punch a hole through the walls. She sees too many of the parrentice mages become frustrated or stressed because they aren’t deemed good enough. Most of them just need a better teacher than what they have or even someone who would be willing to help. These are the students who would prove easy recruitment with Uldred and let inappropriate usage of blood magic blind them.

Like fuck she’s going to sit by and twiddle her thumbs if she can help.

And she does.

So much so that in a year after her arrival, she’s running her own set of very large study groups. With her popularity comes the ire of more senior mages, who don’t appreciate the younger students taking lessons from a quote “apostate unversed in proper magical technique”. 

Caffeine would love to tell them where they could shove their properly taught magical techniques.

Instead she acts like a grown up and tries to show how sessions like those where she has taught many of the mages basic Yoga have improved learning efficacy.

To a degree it works. Irving is impressed with the results and seemingly appreciative that more mages aren’t so lost in their studies as well as how she has helped them learn to visualize. Caffeine watches him deftly deal with irate senior enchanters whose accusations quickly grate on his nerves as well as her own. He more than once has sat in on one of these sessions she’s led so he can better understand how they work. It helps put the accusers in their place when they themselves have no idea what goes on.

It’s when she asks if there could be other skills that some of the less magically adept apprentices might be able to learn, that she is stone walled. She finds herself seething more often than not at the reactions given. A mage learning how to cook, maybe becoming a chef? Or learning how to design clothes, become a tailor? Hell, even farm work could be a viable employment!

You’d think she’d pissed on a statue of their beloved Andraste. 

The most basic lesson for any mage should be knowing how to keep themselves safe from demonic possession. It’s true they needed education on how to control their powers. Education is important. But to prevent them from learning other skills? Giving them options of something they could do or even might excell at with their magical talents than pure magic was just common sense!

However common sense seemed to be lacking around here because Greagoir almost had an aneurysm when it came to his attention that she was trying to do. He actually had the fucking gall to say teaching them such things was useless.

“No, that kind of attitude is useless!” she countered. “What you are doing to them is preventing them from having any kind of chance at introduction to mainstream society and infantilizing them so they’re helpless!”

“They’re place is here in the tower! Society does not want them!”

“Not until they are desperate and then they’re all for them! Tell me you’re not blind to the hypocrisy that’s running rampant not only in society itself but the freaking Chantry?”

She strikes a big nerve and Greagoir is snarling at this point. “You are an apostate and as such unversed in just how things are!”

“I know a system that gets fat off slave labour when I see them,” she snaps. “Mages are treated no different than slaves to the Chantry - they are used and abused, threatened and killed! Why? Because they have magic. They are more sensitive to forces beyond their control and that makes them a problem to way too many people! Maybe if your fucking Chantry weren’t so desperate to keep their own power by trodding on everyone they could, maybe the lives for everyone around here might improve!”

“That is enough!” Greagoir ordered. “You slander and defame an organization that has brought hope to millions of people for almost a millennium! The Chantry looks after its own!”

“Which doesn’t include elves or Mages,” Caffeine stated. “And tell me just how well they look after their own when it comes to Templars who have had suffered trauma or grown addle minded after years of taking lyrium! Tell me what kind of programs do they have to help battle addiction? They even train some mages to hunt so called apostates - using the very people they claim are evil! And don’t even get me started on the hypocrisy about blood magic!”

“That is enough. You will silence yourself. Now.”

“Or what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fighting me. Possibly because it's so different than how I had initially planned for it to go.


End file.
